


Passing The Torch

by Xelkyrien



Series: Tales From The Land of Shadows [3]
Category: Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blacksmithing, Character Death, Consequences, Curse Breaking, Gen, M/M, Magic, Other, Wakes & Funerals, human!ninjanomicon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22249510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xelkyrien/pseuds/Xelkyrien
Summary: With all the curses Sora had cast now broken Ward is no longer immortal. After 800 years the blind weaponsmith finally passes away.
Relationships: NinjaNomicon & The Sorcerer (Randy Cunningham), Randy Cunningham & Howard Weinerman, Randy Cunningham/NinjaNomicon, S. Ward Smith & Brent
Series: Tales From The Land of Shadows [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268900
Kudos: 19





	Passing The Torch

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got this series updated now that my computer's fixed. I've been pretty depressed recently so it seemed like a good time to write this.

_‘Why does it always seem to rain at funerals?’_ Sora found himself wondering as he, Nomi, Randy and Howard made their way through the Norrisville cemetery gates towards the burial ceremony being held within. The weather had been gloomy and wet since the group had gotten the news of S. Ward Smith’s passing a few days prior. It was almost as though sometimes the Earth itself sought to reflect the moods of those that inhabited it, but Sora couldn’t help but question if that were truly the case or if it was the opposite. Magic existed in nature, after all, so it could very well be that strong enough emotions had an impact on the planet. There were certainly plenty of strong emotions here today.

Nomi’s were the strongest. The red-headed teen had been fighting to keep his composure when his Australian friend had delivered the news, but he still looked stricken even through his carefully constructed mask. Sora hadn’t said anything then, knowing full well that his friend thought he needed to appear strong for the sake of everybody else. The ancient ninja had finally broke down in tears after he thought everybody had gone to sleep, mourning the loss of one of his oldest friends alone in the dark. It was then that the former Sorcerer stepped in to offer comfort to the other teen, as well as a shoulder to cry on.

Randy’s grief was almost as palpable as well. The boy was compassionate by nature, so despite the fact that he barely knew Ward the loss of the old blacksmith still affected him deeply. This was only amplified by Nomi’s own distress, the purple-haired teen hurting more because his partner was in pain. Sora watched the two ninjas walking in front of him clad entirely in black. Randy glanced over at the shorter teen and absently slid his hand into Nomi’s, threading their fingers together and pulling the red head a little closer. He gave the last Norisu’s hand a reassuring squeeze, which earned the blue-eyed boy a small watery smile.

Sora was feeling pretty miserable himself. He hadn’t known S. Ward Smith very well and certainly not on any good terms, but he was still impacted by the man’s death. Loss was a heavy weight on the heart, one that both Sora and Nomi were far too familiar with, and Ward had been a good honorable man. He deserved to be mourned and remembered for his sacrifices.

Of course, there were other feelings aside from grief weighing Sora down. Guilt lurked just beneath his sorrow, eating away at him and flooding his mind with self-condemnatory thoughts. He had brought the blacksmith into this in the first place, attempting to use the man to further his own evil agenda and promising immortality as a reward. In the end he had only half delivered on that promise in a fit of psychotic rage, granting Smith the immortality he craved but spitefully neglecting to give him eternal youth to go with it. As the years wore on the man had grown older, eventually went blind, but was unable to die. He never got to have a real life or start a family. And it was all Sora’s fault. It was only when the green-haired youth had been brought back to his senses that all the curses he had cast had been broken, 800 years too late to offer the blacksmith any hope.

The only one that seemed completely unphased was Howard. Sora pushed his own thoughts aside and glanced over at the copper-haired teen walking next to him. The rotund boy wore a bored expression, as though he couldn’t wait for this to be over so he could return to whatever it was he deemed more important. A part of the former Sorcerer wanted to be irritated at Howard’s disrespectful attitude towards the melancholy proceedings, but another part reasoned that Howard was young and immature. Smith had been a complete stranger to him and Howard was likely only here because Randy had asked him to come. Another part of him still stabbed the green-haired teen with the thought that he may simply be displacing his anger at himself onto the other boy.

It was that thought that caused him to deflate, sinking back into sorrow and remorse, all traces of annoyance evaporating almost instantly.

* * *

The grim procession arrived to where the burial was being held, silently moving over to the line of chairs and taking seats next to the two people they knew. Nomi’s Australian friend glanced at the boys and gave them a nod in greeting while Brent, Smith’s most promising student, continued to stare straight ahead with a gaze that held such a deep woe Sora would have thought it impossible for one so young.

The funeral began shortly after everybody had arrived. People got up and spoke to the assembly about Smith and what he had meant to them over the years. There were more people attending than Sora had thought there would be, given that the old blacksmith’s general disposition hadn’t exactly been conventionally friendly. From what those that spoke were saying they had all been his students at some point in their lives, but hadn’t really remained in touch. The corner of the former Sorcerer’s mouth twitched up. It was ironic really, that the people that had been closest to Smith and knew him best would be the only ones not speaking. They couldn’t share anything about their friendship or their history because of the ancient secrets that bond was rooted in.

When Sora had first encountered S. Ward Smith he had been a young man in his early twenties running a blacksmithing shop in a town with no name. He was extremely talented for his age, but had been too arrogant to see that he still had some room for improvement. His attitude didn’t exactly help matters either. Smith hadn’t wanted much, just to be the best in the world at his trade and to be able to hold that title forever. Ward had believed he had already achieved his goal to become the best, but “forever” had been proving a little difficult. When Sora had made him a deal for immortality after hearing of his aspirations the young man had jumped at the chance with the utter disregard for potential consequences that often came with youth.

They had never really been friends. At best the green-haired teen would have called them business partners, but that didn’t quite fit either. Sora guessed labeling it was something of a moot point though since they became enemies in the end.

* * *

Once the speeches had been given those attending the ceremony stood and placed flowers on the coffin, moving in a straight line that eventually returned them to their seats. Final words were spoken and then the coffin was lowered into the ground. This action brought a sense of finality to settle over the mourning crowd, somehow more than the death itself. This was the last step. It was the end of the line. With the body in the ground the proceedings were drawing to a close. Any chance for some miraculous revival had dwindled down to nothing. Smith was really gone and there was no choice but to face it.

Sora felt something wet run down his cheek and for a moment wondered if his umbrella had developed a hole, but glancing at it told him that it was still perfectly intact. He reached up a hand and rubbed at his visible eye, his fingers coming away wet with tears. He was crying. The grey-eyed youth turned his gaze towards his friends, staring how the row of chairs at them and beyond them to the rest of the strangers attending the funereal. Tears poured down Nomi’s cheeks, his mask of strength having shattered in these final moments. Randy held his hand firmly to offer him reassurance, but the purple-haired teen was crying himself. To the right of them the copper-haired Australian had his hat off, held over his heart, his head bowed. Next to him Sora noticed even Howard had become a little misty.

The only one not crying was Brent. Though no tears fell from his eyes it was obvious how much distress the young man was in. The teen was pale and his eyes were dark and empty, but more than that he looked lost and heartbroken. He had worked alongside Smith for so long, had strove to impress the man and make him proud, had hoped to become just as good a blacksmith as his teacher someday. In a way Brent reminded Sora of the young S. Ward Smith. He had so much talent and potential, but now that his mentor was gone the brunette was completely lost.

* * *

As the tears began to dry and people started to filter out of the cemetery to head to the reception Sora turned to his best friend. It took a moment to catch Nomi’s attention but the boy eventually looked up at him. The former Sorcerer nodded towards the brunette teen still sitting a few chairs down. Brent had yet to move even a muscle; as though he were so lost in his sorrow he had become oblivious to his surroundings. The ancient ninja gazed into his friend’s eyes, his mouth set into a stern line. Eventually he nodded, slowly and only once, understanding what Sora was attempting to convey.

All four members of the group stood up, Howard the only one of them left sitting in his chair, and approached Brent. It took several moments for the young man to come back to his senses enough to realize he was surrounded, looking up at the odd group in surprise once he had. It was Nomi that gave a small smile and took a step forward, offering a hand to the brunette and asking that he follow them. Though hesitant, Brent accepted the offer and they five of them began to make their way out of the graveyard.

It took a little while to get there but eventually the group arrived at Norrisville High. Howard had opted to go to the reception for the free food so that left Sora, Nomi, Randy and their friend with the moustache with Brent. None of them really minded Howard’s absence. Though he had been present for much of Randy’s adventures he was still a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit in with the two ninjas, the mage and the 800-year-old messenger.

“What are we doing here?” the young blacksmith asked, giving Nomi a questioning look as the five of them entered the school’s Metal Shop room. The last Norisu gave the brunette a kind but sad smile in reply, stepping over to the circular saw next to the large chalkboard on the wall.

“For 800 years this town has been protected by a ninja.” The red head began, “Over time a ninja’s weapons will feel the fatigue of battle and need replaced. In the realm of the ninja, a swordsmith crafts blades in a cauldron of fire.”

Brent gave the smaller teen a confused and skeptical look, asking, “Ok… What does any of that have to do with me?”

“Your mentor, S. Ward Smith, was the one who held this sacred duty.” Nomi explained, “As his protégé, with his passing the responsibility naturally falls to you, if you’ll accept it.”

Brent’s eyes widened and he spluttered, stumbling over his words. Sora watched as the emotions raged within him, disbelief, shock, at gratitude over being chosen all warring for his attention. Nomi gave the brunette and encouraging smile as he reached up to the lever attached to the saw and brought it down, causing the chalkboard to shift and reveal what was hidden behind it.

The ancient forge stretched out before them, the still smoldering coals along the ground casting a soft orange glow over the room. Weapons sprung up from the ground along the edges of the room, the orange light glinting off their metallic surfaces. At the far end of the room sat an anvil in front of a large furnace in the shape of a shrine, emblazoned with the symbol of the Norisu Nine.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been to a lot of funerals and each one has been completely different, so I'm not sure there's just one right way to write one.  
> On another note: I didn't include the "Major Character Death" archive warning since Smith isn't a main character in the show.


End file.
